Lady Darkness: A Slytherin's Legacy
by x Dark Lady x
Summary: The world is balanced. Every darkness has its light. That is...until the heir to the Legacy of Slytherin is born, and the scale tips. Her name? Hermione Cassandra Riddle. The new Lady Darkness. Dark Mione/Draco, Ginny/Blaise. Possible Luna/Theo. Re-write.
1. Prologue, Part 1

**Lady Darkness:  
**_**A Slytherin's Legacy**_

Summary: When evening breaks and the sun melts into the ground, a dark moon arises. The world is split between two forces – yin and yang. Ever darkness has its light. Our lives are a balance between good and evil. That is...until the heir to the Legacy of Slytherin is born, and the scale tips. Her name...? Hermione Cassandra Riddle. The new Lady Darkness.

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership to Harry Potter, or anything related to it.

Pairings: Hermione/Draco, Ginny/Blaise, Possible Luna/Theo

Note: This is the _re-write _for my other story 'Lady Darkness: Era Obscurum'. I wasn't totally happy with that, so after lots of encouragement from my reviewers, I have decided to start this one. Updates may be a bit slow, since I'm juggling around a lot of things, but this depends on the reader response I get. Either way, I hope this story will grow into something you and I both will love! Plus, if you want a few spoilers, go check out the Footnote!

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**Prologue, Part 1  
**_**Reflecting on the Past**_

* * *

The alley was dark and deserted, so much so that it was almost eerie. A hooded figure appeared at the opening to the alleyway, her heart thudding loudly. She rushed into the dim place, breathing heavily. She dodged several crates, and a particularly menacing looking black cat. But she kept sprinting, her long legs stepping in large strides. She never stopped once, but only when she reached the large wall that blocked her path, that she became aware of the imminent danger she was in.

Her hands clenched the sides of her robes, and she slipped her hand into one of the large, bottomless pockets. She bit her lip, and as the faint sound of footsteps grew louder, she became more frantic. She rummaged around in her pocket until finally; her hands grasped the object she was looking for. In a swift move, she pulled out a long gold rod. Her pursuers ran past the corner, and entered the area where she was hiding.

Two men stumbled into the corner, matching glass bottles in their hands. They sauntered over to the 19-year-old girls, their eyes clouded with lust. They were both near-identical in appearance, and their shaggy, rough look made it blatantly clear that they weren't sober at all. They were speaking to each other, their words a gurgle of rude, indecipherable speech. Their eyes were trained on the girl in front of them, and it was evident that they were undressing her in their mind.

The girl growled at them, her voice a mixture of fear and fury. Her cap slid off her head, revealing a pale, porcelain-like face, and a heedful of honey curls. Dark ebony eyes glinted in the darkness, almost menacingly. She was daring the men to move forward. The rod in her hand clicked, and expanded, until it formed the unmistakable figure of a staff.

The air around the staff rippled slightly, and the brunette was about to strike the offenders, when somebody jumped in front of her. The staff-wielding female took a few minutes to process the fact that somebody had actually come to her defence. She gaped slightly, as she took in the figure in front of her. It was a boy – she could tell by the way he was standing. But he was unlike any other boy she had seen.

His body radiated power. But his power...it was mixed with hate and bitterness. She knew what he desired – his core was itching for a gruesome, bloody revenge. The brunette shivered, involuntarily, and tightened the grip on her staff, and watched the back of the boy who had so willingly jumped to take any attack. His black hair was tousled, and his coat was disarrayed, but he didn't seem to care.

He had lowered himself to a defensive stance, and he had his hands stretched out before him. A silver ball of energy appeared in his hand – only the size of a peanut. One of the men's eyes narrowed, and he clumsily pulled out a wooden stick – his wand. His companion quickly followed his lead, almost tripping over a rock when he did so. The brown-eyed girl took note of this, and watched as the energy ball in his hand steadily grew larger.

She pursued her lips. Drunk or not, those two hulks _were _Aurors, and there reflexes would be quick. She needed to do something, while her defender was charging up his attack. She sucked in a breath, and clenched her fingers near the top of her staff. It gave off a soft yellow glow, before it turned into a small, shining baton, with a simple jewel-encrusted design near the edge. She smiled down at her new weapon, and she promptly slashed it downwards, before the men could even blink.

A small, pink line appeared on the ground, between her rescuer and the attackers. The line squirmed, almost as if it were slime. A thin tendril squeezed out of the crack, and wrapped itself around the ankles of the two men. The teenage boy must have seen this, because a small smirk appeared on his pale face, and the orb in his hand tripled in size. He stepped backwards, and thrust the ball forward.

It sped towards its target at full-speed, and hit them both with deadly accuracy, hurling the two men over the wall, and into the empty darkness. The boy looked at where the two men were last standing, and stood up, carefully. He dusted himself off, and turned around, not even bothering to check where the antagonists were. After all, it wasn't his fault. They shouldn't have even _tried_ to rape a girl in _his_ hide-out.

Meanwhile, the brunette girl was staring at the boy's back, warily. While she was no doubt extremely grateful for his brazen act, her instincts told her to be careful around the boy. She didn't want to get on the bad side of someone with as much power as he seemed to hold. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward to thank her unlikely hero, but a blaze of uncertainty hit her in the midst of her step, and her world started to go blurred and dizzy.

The last thing Celena Ellanora Ravenclaw saw, before she fell into the arms of her rescuer, were two crimson red eyes looking down at her.

* * *

It were days like these that Molly Weasley truly felt ashamed of what she had become.

Her husband, Arthur Weasley, was sitting at the edge of the kitchen tab, and handful of hefty bills in his hand, and his forehead creased in frustration. Molly knew what he was thinking, and she had thought the same thing when she had scanned over the neatly printed notes. They were not going to be able to pay off the bills. They would have to get out another loan again, which would reduce their spending money by thousands.

Molly looked down at her hands, unable to shake the lingering _what if_s that clouded her head. Arthur had once had a good-sized allowance under his arm, and she, too, had once had several vaults under her name. She herself had once belonged to the prestigious line of Prewett, and was envied by the offspring of various other, less-important pureblood families.

The House of Prewett was hardly an ancient family, but it did have quite a lot of money in its name. Unlike other pureblood families, the Prewett's honoured female as heirs instead of males. It was a distorted tradition, with unknown roots, but it _was_ a custom. Molly had been the oldest daughter of Orvana and Marcus Prewett, and therefore the heir to Prewett. But, she was also arranged to marry none other than Regulus Black.

At that time that she had found out about the man she was supposed to marry, she had fallen in love with the handsome, red-haired Arthur Weasley. In a fit of teenage rebelliousness, she had run away and eloped with Arthur, instead of the rational heart-to-heart talk she should've opted for. When things started to get troublesome for them, Arthur's father leant a hand, and split half of the Weasley family with them, despite the fact that he had to feed Arthur's little brothers.

However, whilst Arthur's dad had been kind and understanding, Molly's parents had been the polar opposite. Furious and disgusted with their daughter, they had scorched her name off the Prewett Family Tree, consequently breaking all blood ties with her. Despite Molly's disparate pleas of forgiveness, they snubbed her, publically denouncing Molly, an act that had put the red-head into months of depression.

Then her sister had struck the worst blow. After Orvana Prewett had passed away, the new Head of Prewett had marched over to the Weasley Household, shouting profanities at her, and telling her, in a cold, frigid voice, how everything – even her Mother's death – had been her fault, and how much she wished that Molly would just curl up and die. Then, Anna Prewett had packed up her bags, changed her name and moved to France, never to be heard from again.

She left, leaving Molly almost penniless, and completely heartbroken.

Arthur glanced up from his papers, and ran a hand through his dark red hair, shooting Molly a reassuring grin. Molly looked down at the small bump that shaped her stomach, and couldn't escape the smile that broke out on her lips. Maybe she _was_ ashamed of what she had become, but there was no way she regretted how her life had turned out.

* * *

There were some things about Sieren Lovegood that the normal world didn't know. Things that civilians would laugh off, and claim completely and utterly false...things that her co-workers just wouldn't be able to comprehend. Things – little secrets – that she kept to herself...things not even her husband knew.

On the outside, Seiren was a beautiful woman, with long, trailing blonde hair, and large, silvery-blue eyes that sparkled with hidden mischief. Someone who claimed to know Seiren well would probably describe a similar person – one who was always happy, and smiling, making jokes and generally being a bubbly, lovable person.

What most people didn't know about her was that she wasn't 'good' at all. Seiren had an obsession – an obsession with killing things. Some may call it justice, or even execution, but all Seiren cared about was seeing her opponent's blood splatter across the floor, and hearing the triumphant crunch of their bones cracking. The soulless look in their eye as they stared up at the towering blond...the way their body twisted as the scarlet liquid streamed out of their body...

Maybe that was what had driven her to apply for a job in the Department of Assassinations – the only Ministry department that even came close to the level of secrecy in the Department of Mysteries. It was only when You-Know-Who started to take over, though, that Seiren had actually considered joining the Department. As soon as she had confirmed the request, a handful of request came through, all of which Seiren stealthily completed. She did all of these without leaving a single clue, or even arousing her husband's suspicion.

Yes, she had been a great assassin. Everybody in the Department of Assassinations respected her, and some even called her their idol, though she personally didn't see how she was so admirable. Her Boss had been thoroughly disappointed when she curtly informed him about her decision to leave. Some of her co-workers had worriedly asked her the reason why she had resigned, but she had given them all the same response – a sly wink and a cute smile. Just like anyone would've expected from Seiren Lovegood.

Seiren looked down at the pink rose in her hand. She had sworn to never go back to assassination, ever. And, she would do just that. She would do it for her husband, Xelliphus, and for the baby girl that was growing inside her stomach. For her daughter – Seiren smiled at the thought. Yes, she'd do it for Luna Lovegood.

* * *

October 31st, 1981. That day would forever be burned into Celena's mind. The brunette woman was a curled on the living room sofa, her head buried in a pillow. Her hair was matted, and her cheeks were flushed. Tears poured down her cheeks, her make-up smudged. Her dress wasn't ironed properly, and it clashed with her hair colour. In general, Celena looked like a mess.

Sitting next to Celena, a two-year girl was staring at the wall, blankly. She was dressed in a light blue dress, and her short, curly hair framed her soft, baby cheeks. Sitting on the large armchair, she strangely represented a porcelain doll, with her emotionless face. Unlike her mother, she just couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that her father was _gone._

What did 'gone' mean exactly? And why did her mother look so sad? Why did she keep muttering strange words like 'death' and 'Potter'? And what was 'Avada Kedavra'? So many questions flittered around in her inquisitive mind, but she didn't dare ask any of them. Even though she had just turned two a little over a month ago, she had enough sense to realise that asking questions would only make things worse.

And so, Hermione Cassandra Riddle sat curled in the armchair, staring out the window, blissfully unaware that the subject of her mother's despair would also be the one thing that would change her life forever.

* * *

End Prologue, Part 1

_Hey, everyone! Well, this is the first part of my new re-write, so I hope you like it! Everything will be split into several parts, and I have the notes written down for the entire Prologue. I just need to type up the 2nd and 3rd parts of the prologue, which are a lot more interesting. This is chapter is basically just a filler chapter, and I just want to get the past down. As time goes down, these things will be referred to a lot, so I need you loo~vely readers to understand the minor plotlines first._

_Anyway, addressing the differences between the re-write and the new story. Well, I won't reveal the whole plotline, but basically, it will be longer, better written, more evil and more fluffy! All the characters you know and love will come in earlier, and you'll be able to see how the story progresses, from the point of view from various different people. So, you'll be able to read how the drama unfolds. There are also major differences in the basic lines between 'Era Obscurum' and 'A Slytherin's Legacy'. I won't be killing Hermione off that quickly (if I even decide to kill her, that is) and there won't be lots of 'Voldemort Reserructions'. So basically, Voldemort rises once, and only once. BUT, Hermione will be aiding him while he rises. I can't say anymore, because if I do, I'll spoil the whole story._

_Sooo~! This chapter is dedicated to all my lovely reviewers, whom gave me a huge response for the idea of a re-write. Over 20 people! I'm frankly amazed and thoroughly flattered. I know that some of you liked the whole 'fast paced action' in my previous story and that Prologue, Part 1, is hardly very dramatic, but don't worry. I'm a sucker for major twists and things. Soooo, I'll give you a little spoiler: **In Prologue - Part 3, expect a few death scenes. **Anyway, the last two parts of the Prologue are basically outlining parts of Hermione, Ginny and Luna's childhood, and how they slowly lose the innocence that they were hailed for._

_I'll stop babbling now, since you're probably not reading this useless Author's drone. For now, nothing is important in the footnote, but in the future, I suggest you read these, because they may contain my perspective of the chapter, which will help soothe any confusion. I already know everything that is going on, but the way I project it might be a bit confusing, so if you don't understand something - Tell me! I promise I will address the issue, either by PM or by answering it in the little footnote. (If I get lots of questions, I may create a FAQ section, like in my Azkaban story)_

_So, if you like this story, review~! The more reviews I get, the more I'm encouraged to get my ass off the chair and start typing up those dramatic scenes. Trust me, you'll see three very dramatic scenes next time! I should know - my notes told me!_

_Bye for now~!_

_Your luuurvely writer,  
Dark Lady x_


	2. Prologue, Part 2

**Lady Darkness:  
**_**A Slytherin's Legacy**_

Recap: Celena Ravenclaw meets Tom Riddle, under uncertain circumstances. Molly Weasley remembers when she was honoured as a Pureblood, and how her sister left her. Seiren Lovegood talks about her rise and fall in the assassination industry. Lord Voldemort is killed by Harry Potter, and Celena mourns his death. Hermione is oblivious.

Note: Okay, as you can tell, I'm splitting everything up into several parts, so I can update quicker. I will also do this for the different 'arcs', like Year 1, 2, etc. Anyway, while the last chapter was just background information, this is the chapter that actually progresses. I thought that I should have several solid side-stories to why Hermione, Luna and Ginny hate the 'Light' side, and Muggles. At first, Hermione may seem all 'Muggles are great', but we all know Hermione wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't investigate a bit. Also, I want to preserve _some_ sort of childlike innocence.

**This chapter takes place in 1986. Ginny and Luna are both 5 years old. Hermione is 6, turning 7 in September.**

_Revised: 4/02/11_

* * *

**Prologue, Part 2  
**_**Just a Young Victim

* * *

**_

The Weasley House – which had been jokingly dubbed 'The Burrow' – had been around for centuries. At first look, the house appeared to be a clumsily built house, which held more people than it were built for. But, while many people speculated about the bizarreness of the house, Ginny Weasley found that the only place that was even _near_ fascinating was the large forest that surrounded the Weasleys' lake.

It was also the same place where she was currently standing, twirling around in her pink dress, while her mother doted on her, cooing and kissing her. It was her idea to go to the Forest – she had always found some sort of lure in the dark, dangerous shadows, but her mother had never let her go. It was only when her father suggested them – her parents and her – go together, that Molly started to praise the idea.

Her other brothers had gone to their friends' house as soon as Molly announced the idea – they didn't want to get stuck in some wild family adventure. Ginny was a little annoyed that it was going to be publicised as a family outing, but being the good little girl she was, she wisely kept quiet. That was too much to say for Ron, Ginny's brother, who always seemed to dislike her for some reason.

He couldn't hide it from her. She knew what he was doing, just by his actions. Every time Bill cuddled her, he would knock something over, just so that he could drop her in surprise. Every time Charlie told her about what new things Hagrid had shown him, Ron would loudly ask him if he wanted to play chess. Every time Fred and George recruited her into a prank (they never asked Ron, he was too noisy), their mother 'somehow' found out.

Ginny knew Ron was jealous of her, but being her meek 5-year-old self, she didn't make a move to stop him. She just kept it all to herself. Nobody even noticed how she would subtly glare at Ron, when he disrupted her fun; nobody heard her crying in the middle of the night. Nobody noticed her look on in despair, as everyone except for her parents, started to forget about her...because to them, she was 'innocent little Ginny', the perfect daughter.

The only person that _didn't _treat her like that seemed to despise her. The day that Molly starting packing food for their trip into the Forest, Ron had noisily protested against the idea. Her mother, however, was adamant that they were going to spend some family time together. She had smiled at Ginny, adoringly, and had said, "After all, anything my little Ginevra wants, she'll get, right?"

At that time, Ginny had fell at a complete loss for words. Ron glared at her back, but the only thing Ginny could do, was play her part. So she had replied with a quiet '_right_', and had slipped away, unnoticed by everyone.

Is it possible to be both the centre of attention, and completely ignored at the same time? Ginny certainly thought so. She grimaced slightly as her mother pinched her cheeks and planted another kiss on her forehead. It was almost like she _craved _affection, and the only way to get it, was through smothering Ginny.

The small red-head waited, patiently, until her mother was done. She tried to ignore Ron's annoyed gaze, and focussed on the smiling figure of her father, who was at the mouth of the forest. He turned to her mother, "Molly, I think it's time we head back. No matter how much fun this is, we still have to pick up the twins and Percy. I don't even know why Percy went with them – even if they are eight years old, they're a bundle of trouble."

Molly's eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth, "You're right! I completely forgot about that! I need to check in with Charlie as well!"

The plump red-head turned and eyed Ginny and Ron, worriedly. "You two will be okay in here by yourself, right? Your father and I won't be long – and if you're scared, you can go back to the house, okay?"

"I'm never scared!" Ron shook his head, his hair flying everywhere. He stood up straight, and pointed at himself to emphasis his point. Ginny looked at him, amused. He really was trying too hard, in her opinion. Didn't he realise that Mum and Dad loved him as much as they loved her?

Molly dismissed him with a small smile, and she bent down to kiss Ginny's forehead. Arthur ruffled Ron's hair, "Be a good boy and take care of your sister, okay?"

They both nodded quickly, and after Molly kissed Ginny goodbye, they both disappeared into the blackness. Inside the forest, the two children looked at the trees, silently. They stood there like that for a while, and Ginny was soaking up the rare moments of quiet she had been blessed with, when suddenly Ron broke the silence; "It's always you, isn't it?"

Ginny didn't say anything. What was there to say? She couldn't very well burst out into an indignant rant – this would only make Ron furious, and he would storm out, leaving her _alone_ in an extremely dense forest. Unfortunately, her lack-of-response only fuelled Ron's dislike. "It's always the same – Ginny this, Ginny that, _oh, come on Ron, look at what _Ginny _is doing_!"

"No it's not," Ginny whispered. Ron stared at her, his eyes flickering in jealousy. Ginny's voice grew louder, "No it's not. You think that everybody hates you and ignores you, but you can't see what is right in front of your eyes! Mum and Dad love you – you just hate yourself so much that you can't see it!"

"Stop it! Stop acting like you know everything, because you don't! You have no idea what I've been through!" He shouted, blinded by fury. He pushed Ginny down with so much force, that she stumbled slightly, and the dirt under her collapsed. Her small five-year-old body couldn't take the amount of force, and she fell into the Earth, landing in a deep hole.

Ron's anger vanished as he stared at the dirt-covered Ginny, who was desperately clawing at the walls, and pleading for him to help her. He took a step back, his eyes wide with fear, and then in one quick movement, he spun around and ran away, like a scared cat running away from his own trap. Ginny let out a loud wail once she realised what Ron had done, and anger bubbled under her skin.

She hugged her knees to her chest, and slowly, tears started to fall from her large, brown eyes. She tried to find an escape, but after hours of trying, she gave up. Storm clouds had gathered in the sky, and rain-drops trickled down from the stretch of grey, splattering over Ginny's blood-stained face, the result of many failed attempts at leaving the hole.

Ginny let her red curls fall to her face. Two Muggle men had come past before, and Ginny had tried to ask them to help her up, but they had only laughed in her face. They had spat at her, and threw dirt down the hole. One of them smashed the glass bottle that he kept drinking from, and threw it into the hole. The glass pieces had cut her skin, and bruised her face and ribs, making her cry harder.

The sight of the Muggle taunting her, reminded her eerily of Ron. The same Muggles, who her father worshiped, had just hurt her beyond recognition. Just like her brother had. And so, time passed, but nobody came looking for her. Nobody came to help her. Ginny sobbed into her chest, asking God exactly what sins she had committed to deserve this.

It was only hours later that somebody came to help her. Ginny had just about given up hope, when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She pressed herself against the back of the wall, praying that it wasn't another Muggle come to throw things at her. She was surprised when she saw a blonde-haired girl's face appear at the edge of the hole.

The blonde girl was standing on her tiptoes, looking down, her light blue dress trailing behind her. She looked no older than Ginny was. Her light blue eyes looked down at the redhead in surprise, "What are you doing in a hole? The Grygiggles didn't get you, did they?" – here she paused, and shook her head – "Oh well, here, I'll help you."

Ginny stared in shock, as the girl stretched out her arm, and smiled encouragingly. Feeling clumsy, the redhead tentatively took the hand, and the other girl gently pulled her up to safety. Ginny bit back a gasp as the sun's rays hit her. She stumbled a bit, but the blonde girl quickly held her shoulder, preventing a fall. She smiled largely at Ginny, showing off two rows of white teeth. "My name is Luna Lovegood and you're Ginny Weasley, right?"

Ginny was too shocked to say anything, so she just nodded, mutely. Luna cocked her head slightly and giggled, before waving to her, in a childish way. "Well, I've got to go now! Watch out for the Irickles on the way – they liked dark spaces." Then she grinned, dreamily, and skipped off in the opposite direction, her hair trailing behind her.

Ginny stared at the spot where Luna was last standing, and she touched her cheek, feeling the sensation of warm, sticky blood splattered across her face. She knew what would await her when she got back. Her mother would throw a fit. She'd rush her to St Mungo's and then, when they were back at home, she'd yell at her for making her worry, and send her to her room without dinner. And once again, Ron would glare at her, hatefully, not even feeling the slightest bit grateful that she would not tell on him.

The red-head glared at the floor, her eyes burning with unknown emotion. Fury bubbled up in her, but she forced herself to be calm. Taking a deep breath she turned to walk back home. All the way, thoughts of the dreamy blonde filled her head, and Luna Lovegood's words rang inside her mind. _I'll help you._

* * *

When her father had first told her that she was going to a Muggle 'After School Care', Luna had been excited beyond words. Two weeks later, sitting in her mother's favourite sofa, she wasn't as thrilled as she had been before.

She had thought that it was going to be different, that it would be different from the normal jeering and sniggers she received at the Ministry Balls. She'd thought that, since nobody knew her parents, that she wouldn't be automatically labelled as 'not worth knowing.' She'd thought that she'd make friends, that she would be happy.

But Muggles and Wizards, despite what anybody else would say, weren't all that different.

Yes, Wizards could do things Muggles could only dream of, but to a 5-year-old Luna Lovegood, she saw nothing beyond the whispers around her. At first, she'd been the 'new girl' – one of the muggle phrases that she had heard on her first day – and everybody had looked at her with wary, albeit curious, eyes.

People where watching her, their eyes trained onto her figure, as they chattered in low voices. Whether they knew it or not, they were judging her. It reminded her of the black haired girl (Luna thought her name was Posy Parky-son or something along the lines) that had snubbed her without a second thought. And Luna didn't like that one bit.

It was like they were waiting for somebody else to make the first move...like they were determining whether or not she was good enough for them. Luna spent weeks on the receiving end of their blank looks, before she cracked. She was going to make the first move.

Biting her lip, Luna waltzed over to where a group of girls where laughing. She smiled brightly at them, and stuck her hand out to them, "Hi! I'm Luna Lovegood!"

"Kylie Ashwood," one of the girls replied in a strained, slightly boastful, voice. She looked at Luna expectantly, like she was waiting for Luna to fall over herself to shake her hand. When she was met with nothing but a cheerful smile, Kylie did a double-take. She stared at Luna, "As in _Iris Ashwood_ –MTV's Best Artist of the Year?"

Faltering slightly, Luna looked on in confusion, "MTV? What's MTV?"

Kylie narrowed her eyes, "Are you _mocking _me? Who _doesn't _know what MTV is?"

"I don't," Luna twirled a lock of hair around her finger, "Where do they live? We don't have any MTVs where I'm from, you see."

One of the girls behind her stared at Luna disbelievingly and another scoffed. Kylie rolled her eyes, "What _do _you have 'where you come from'?"

"Well, Daddy runs a newspaper called the Quibbler," Luna said, absentmindedly. "Yesterday he told me about the new discovery he made. Did you know that Griverlies love to eat Gillyweed? Daddy said that there were lots of them in the Great Lake! I really want to be able to watch them in their natural habitat!"

The room was silent. Several eavesdropping children looked at Luna as if she had grown a third eye. (Perhaps the Chevvers were infesting their brains and altering their eyesight?) Kylie's left eye twitched, and she stood up, the rest of her posse following her moves like a shadow. Luna cocked her head and smiled, sweetly. Kylie snorted and pushed past Luna. Luna tripped over her feet and fell onto the concrete. Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes, and she looked down at her knees, which were heavily bruised.

Glancing up, the last thing Luna could make out, before she fell into unconsciousness, was the retreating figure of Kylie Ashwood, her words ringing through her ears, "What a _loser_."

Was that what she was?

A...loser?

* * *

It was the first time that Hermione had been let out.

Normally, her mother would only take her to secluded areas, and even then, Hermione was hardly given much freedom. Her mother was too paranoid to let her do _anything. _Hermione kept insisting that she was old enough – her 7th birthday was coming up soon, thank you very much – but her mother had an..._Issue _with Muggles.

The only reason why she had let her out alone, in the first place, was because she had too many things to pack for their move to Ravenclaw Manor, which was in France. It was only with hours of pestering that her mother finally dismissed her. Celena had always lectured Hermione about how Muggles were horrible, evil people who 'just didn't belong in the world.' Celena told her about how Muggles would take advantage of her innocent personality, and that it was best to avoid Muggles, especially since they were 'in Mudblood territory'.

Hermione, of course, didn't believe a word that she said. How could she possibly hate Muggles, if she hadn't even met one? For all she knew, her mother could be over-exaggerating, and she wouldn't be surprised, since her mother did it often. Hermione refused to hate Muggles, over just some silly prejudice. And she was determined to prove that Muggles were just as good as her.

Smiling to herself, Hermione held her head up high, and walked towards the large stretch of green. The park wasn't full today – there were hardly any people there. Still, this did not discourage Hermione. Her eyes travelled over the large, lush green trees and the red and blue playground, before her gaze fell on a group of bulky boys.

Hermione bit her lip. She would have preferred a girl – maybe somebody prettier, but she couldn't be choosy. Feeling a thrill of excitement run through her, she bounced over to where the boys where huddled together. They turned around when they heard her footsteps, and for the first time, Hermione got a good look at their faces.

There were four of them. One of the boys had a scrawny build, and rat-like features, while the other two were lanky, with identical predatory looks on their faces. The last one was a fat blonde, with pig-like cheeks and watery blue eyes. His superior look made it clear that he was the ringleader. Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled, brightly at them. "Hello, what's your name?"

The blonde eyed her with a mix of suspicion and disgust, of which the latter, Hermione ignored. He grunted out his response in an un-gentlemanly fashion, "Dudley. Dudley Dursley. Why are _you_ asking?"

In the back of her mind, Hermione's subconscious was silently willing her to move away, while she had the chance. Hermione mentally shook her head – she was determined to do this. She wouldn't back down. So, she grinned, "Well, I'm going to be your friend!"

Dudley looked flabbergasted – an expression that looked downright _horrible _on his pudgy face. It took him a while to process what Hermione had said, but when he did, his face twisted up into an ugly smile. "You think that _you _can go around asking to be friends with _me_? Like some kind of mutated freak? I'll show _you _what I think of you, ugly!"

The brunette girl's eyes widened, and before she had a chance to react, Dudley had reached out and punched her in the stomach. The rat-like boy laughed, and caught her before she fell. He gripped her hands tightly, holding them behind her back. Dudley smirked again, and punched her in the face. Hermione cried out, telling them to stop whatever they were doing, but they didn't. A large hand, belonging to one of the tall boys, reached out and collided with her cheek. The rat boy let go of her hands, and she fell to the floor, hitting the right side of her head on the ground.

Blood smeared across her cheek, and dirt covered her arms and legs. As the four boys left the park, laughing, Hermione felt a new sense of anger fill her. She tried to sit up, but only ended up bruising the side of her hip. She lay on the floor, and stared up at the sky, blankly. Suddenly, she heard a shuffling behind her, and Hermione felt her heart soar. Maybe somebody had come to help her? Maybe a _nice Muggle _had stumbled across her body? Maybe they would take her back to her mummy?

Using all her strength, Hermione sucked in a breath, and pulled herself up. She climbed to her feet, and stumbled forward, trying not to lose her balance. She turned around, and she caught sight of a dark-haired boy with dark green eyes. He was looking at her, his face emotionless. Hermione sent him a pleading look – one that even the most ignorant of people would notice – but the boy did not even make a move to help her.

"You – you shouldn't talk to anyone," He said quietly. Hermione's eyes narrowed, despite her weak state. She opened her mouth to ask exactly _why _she couldn't talk to anyone. The boy cut her off, and his voice was harsher than before. "Just don't, okay?"

"Why? Am I not good enough, huh?" Hermione felt a stab in her heart, and in her emotional state, she lost control of her rationality. Anger surged through her veins, and she glared at the boy, "Well, guess what? You can't tell me what to do! I'll talk to whoever I want to! You're all the same anyway!"

Hermione spun on her heel, wincing when she felt her ribcage throb painfully. But she didn't stop. Instead, she turned around, her wild brown hair flying, and she limped towards her house, bloody face and all. The boy didn't even try to follow her, and for some reason that only rubbed salt on the wound. Hermione glared, as she hobbled passed various people, all of who pointed and looked at her like she was a slug. **(A/N: Remember, this **_**is **_**Privet Drive, home of the Snooty-And-Snobby Inc.)**

Hermione's hatred intensified. She approached her house, and pushed open the door, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. Her mother was right. Muggles were horrible – they were all the same! All they cared about were themselves! They even had the audacity to point and laugh at _her_! Hermione clenched her fists, and a vase shattered. _They don't deserve to live._

They don't deserve to live.

They don't deserve to live.

They don't deserve to live.

_They don't deserve to live._

And so, the legend of Tom Marvolo Riddle was reborn – only this time, inside his daughter. Hermione Cassandra Riddle.

* * *

End Prologue, Part 2

_Okay, I admit I've been a bit selfish. I'd actually written this chapter a day after I posted the first one, but I kept thinking to myself, 'Wait for more reviews'. I was also attempting to try to stay on a sort of 'Post a chapter, when you've written the one after that' schedule. This, unfortunately didn't work out, because I've gotten stuck half way through Ginny's scene in Part 3. I know what I want to do, I just can't get the words on paper. So, this weekend, I'm going to sit down and do some serious re-organizing. This will help, since I've taken Monday and Tuesday off school. So, hopefully, you should be seeing Part 3 soon. Arc 1 will come a little later on, though._

_Anyway, I think the hardest part of this chapter, was working with Ginny and Luna. Hermione is really easy for me to write, because she has grown up differently, which basically means I can mold her any way I want to. (Though, I've tried my best to preserve some of that 'Fiery Hermione' that we love so much) I have to take into note that Ginny and Luna have grown up with Light families, so I have to have some sort of 'turning point' in their venture into Dumbledore's hands. Some things that stray them away from all things good and holy... but even then, they won't change so much, that I can do whatever I want with them. Luna - Luna is that much more hard to go with. I've got a vague idea about how I want her to be like, but the problem is, she isn't anything like Canon!Luna. So, I've been stuck about how to go with things, in terms of her 'dreaminess'._

_I also wanted to get this chapter finished, and it was a lot longer than I thought it would be. I had to cut down a lot from my original ideas, but for those of you who are interested, here is the original paragraph I'd written in my notes:_

- **Luna, Age 5, 1986**. Luna's Father is busy running the newspaper, so he sends Luna to a Muggle Daycare. Luna is excited, and she tries to make friends. At first, nobody pays attention to her, but then when she tells somebody about how magic is real, everybody thinks that she is a weirdo, and turns on her. People start insulting her, burning her things and generally absuing her. Luna gets upset, and when she tries to tell her Father, he says that she is probably overreacting, causing Luna to get even more upset.

_Hopefully, this will give a more in-depth view into how I'm imagining things. As you can see, I changed a lot, but it is roughly the same outline. I just needed a reason for her to distaste Muggles, instead of the partially Neutral side-effect I would get if I didn't add this scene in._

_Okay. Moving on. I'm really surprised on how many people reviewed. I think, the only other story of mine that has gotten this big of a response for the first chapter, was 'Charming the Snake'. But then again, that was a Harry-circulate story, so yeah._

_Also, I need to 'question' you for a bit. If you're even reading the author's note, I've got a few questions on how you want things to turn out. This will probably separate the whole of 'Slytherin's Legacy' from 'Era Obscurum'. Anyway, here are the questions._

**_1. Do you want Ginny to be a Riddle, or not?  
2. Should Voldemort die (like in the original LD) and be 'reborn' at the hands of Hermione?  
3. In what year should Hermione and Draco 'fall in love'?  
4. Which characters do you want me to 'bash'?  
5. Should I keep the twins as Neutral, Dark, etc? What about Sirius and Remus? Any other characters you want to be diverted from Hermione's attention?_**

_I hope you're actually reading this, because I really need people's opinions for these, before I start drafting up the notes for Arc 1. This is because I need to know which characters I need to start developing (to the Dark Side, or whatever) and depending on which character, I need to have an allotted time-slot for it. So, I can't suddenly make Sirius Dark, if he's already re-instated the Order of Pheonix. I need to have moments of doubt/reflection/resentment, to build up a character's personality, if you get what I mean._

_Oh, I almost forgot the most important question:_

**_6. Which POV do you want the story to be told in?_**

_Basically, it means, do you want it in 3rd Person (like this chapter), or 1st Person (Like Era Obscurum)? Or, do you want me to put 'Multiple POVs'? I'm leaning towards one of the first two, since I like to keep things neat and strategic. Or, if you really want 'Multiple POVs', I could have a different person narrating each Arc...but it's up to you._

_Sooooo, I think that's about it. I'll stop now before I get too carried away! Review, and I might just stop lazing around and start writing! (Though it won't be 'till later, since I have an Orientation on Friday. Yay~!)_

_Love,  
Dark Lady _


	3. Prologue, Part 3

**Lady Darkness:  
**_**A Slytherin's Legacy**_

Recap: We get to go deeper into the lives of Hermione, Luna and Ginny. Their childhood is darkened by jealousy and anger. While Luna suffers to a much lesser extent, Ginny is severely hurt by her own brother, and belittled by two drunken men. Her mother punishes her for something that is not her fault. Meanwhile, Hermione Riddle tries to prove that Muggles aren't that bad, but in the end, she admits her defeat, and Tom Riddle's hatred for Muggles is once again reinforced, inside his daughter.

Note: Okay. This is the last part in the Prologue Arc...if you can call it that.

**This chapter is set in 1990. Ginny and Luna are both 9 years old. Hermione is 10, turning 11 in September. This is not her Hogwarts year. HP Lexicon notes that Hermione starts Hogwarts when she is 11-12, because of her birth date.**

Post Note: Luna's scene in the last chapter/part had been altered to suit reality. Thanks to my reviewers for mentioning this to me. Also, please read the little info box at the end. Thank you. Also, a lot of extra bits at the bottom! :)

* * *

**Prologue, Part 3  
**_**Loss of Innocence

* * *

**_

Ginny surveyed the scene around her, disdain shining in her eyes.

It was the summer before the Hogwarts doors opened for the year, and everybody had been ready to move on with their annual schedule of last-minute tardiness, when Molly Weasley had come in one day, a bright smile on her face. She had called over Bill – who had moved to Egypt on his 18th birthday, last year – via Floo Network, and had literally demanded that he come home. She even rang up Charlie, who was sharing an apartment with another animal-loving friend of his.

Then she had sit down on the couch, and stared at the wall, the grin never leaving her face. She had been like that for the whole day. She hadn't even acknowledged Bill and Charlie's arrival – she had just stared at them with a love-struck look, and giggled, before drifting off into her own dream land. When Bill asked her what was wrong – he had rushed all the way from Egypt, thinking there was some major emergency – she had just smiled and said that she had better wait for Arthur.

So her...brothers had gone back to their usual rowdy behaviour. Bill and Charlie were discussing their new jobs in near-identical gruff tones. (Apparently, they liked to believe that in the presence of their mother, they could still keep _some_ of their 'manliness') Fred and George were grinning, manically looming over a cowering rat – Scabbers, while Percy played chess with an uncomfortable looking Ron (Ginny still felt bitter resentment when she thought about him), while chatting about his aspirations for the future, which he had recited to the younger boy too many times to count.

The auburn haired girl didn't feel the least bit sorry for him.

Ginny was feeling left out, but then again, the feeling wasn't exactly new to her. Her brothers were paired off, in a way, and they always had better things to do, than 'play' with her. Sure, Bill and Charlie would often come over and take her to different places, but they always ended up talking to each other, instead of with her. She supposed it wasn't their fault. They were the eldest, and they'd grown up together, so it was only natural that they'd be closer.

But still, it _hurt_. And even Ginny, despite how quiet and seemingly 'innocent' she was, could not suppress the bitter resentment that overwhelmed her, every time she watched them from her seat at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

Percy, on the other hand, seemed to think that she was a fragile female, and therefore she should stay at home, and 'practice her cooking skills and her etiquette', because the idea of girls running around, being independent and sporty, was, to him 'absolutely ridiculous.' Ginny had to refrain from fatally damaging him, when he told her that one day, she would have to marry a respectable pureblood and stay at home and care for their children, and that she had better stop dreaming of silly fantasies.

Of course, he said this differently, but Ginny was too infuriated with his lack of respect for the female population, that she simply did not care.

Ron – Ginny didn't even want to think about Ron. What he had done to her, when she was merely a child, was still etched into her brain. He had done countless other spiteful acts towards her, all which had broken her childlike compassion beyond repair. Ginny didn't know _why _he hated her so much. It wasn't her fault she was born a girl!

In fact, it seemed that the only ones that actually tried to involve her in things were Fred and George. Every time the family 'forgot' about her, Fred would make a joke and George would try to get her 'into it'. They'd even asked her for her help on some of their pranks, claiming they needed a feminine touch. Ginny was forever grateful to them. Though, most of the time, they were in their own world, but they _were _twins, and Ginny respected that.

The door burst open and an extremely happy Arthur Weasley burst through, a wide grin stretched across his pale, freckled face. His eyes were lit up in delight. Ginny knew her father, and she knew her well. While he was nowhere near the top of Ginny's 'I shall resent you forever' list, she couldn't deny that her father's obvious naivety – especially when it came to _anything_ outside his Muggle work – got on her nerves.

But for _both _of her parents to be happy – not just happy, but completely and utterly _ecstatic _– about the same thing, meant that whatever had happened was not just the insignificant 'we got invited over to tea.' It was something big. And for some reason, a nagging voice in the back of her head was telling her that this wasn't good.

And of course, she picked the worst time to be right, because mere seconds after the Burrow's door clicked close; her parents were hugging each other, identical grins painting their faces. Ginny and her brothers shared confused looks. Molly looked up, her cheeks pink, "I'm pregnant! You'll have another brother!"

Ginny's heart sank.

* * *

_Bill and Charlie are used to having younger siblings – especially brothers_, Ginny thought to herself – so they responded the same way they had every single other time their mother had announced she was pregnant. They were overjoyed, and congratulated Molly heartily. Only Ginny noticed the worried looks Charlie and Bill shared behind her back. Ginny was perceptive. She knew what they were so anxious about. They were concerned about whether their parents would even be able to a_fford _another child.

Percy, on the other hand... well, Ginny didn't know _what ____h_e was thinking. He smiled, stiffly at Molly, and then looked at her stomach with a predatory glint in his eyes. Ginny shivered. She could only imagine what sort of things _he _wanted to instil into the baby. She was only glad that Percy hadn't adopted his snobbish attitude when she was a newborn...what would she have been like then? Ginny grimaced.

Fred and George...well, they didn't think too much about it. They accepted it with smiles and started off a jolly jig around their Mother, who, for once, didn't mind the racket at all.

Ron...Ron was taking it surprisingly well, Ginny thought, bitterly. He probably didn't act like this when she was in her mother's stomach. Ron had a stupid smile on his face, and if you looked close enough, you could probably see stars in his eyes. Ginny knew that Ron despised being the youngest boy, and having _Ginny ____– _ a girl – get all the attention _he _wanted. The witch in question clenched her fists and looked away.

He probably thought that now that there was a _new _child, that _he _would look up to someone as stupid and dim-witted as _Ron._

But, despite the absurdity of it – it was true. The whole family were in good spirits. They were all looking forward to a new addition into their family. The whole family was happy – except Ginny. The whole family...

Ginny clenched her fists.

She had to stop this. She _had_ to!

* * *

It was a moment of pure desperation that had led to the conclusion of Ginny's actions. She had seen her Mother lying down on the cough, a bottle of Sleeping Draught-laced pills (approved and recommended for pregnancy, of course) in her hand, fast asleep. A small, barely visible, bump rested on her not-so-flat stomach.

Ginny stood over her, her red hair in a messy bun. She was the only one awake – her brothers were suckers for sleeping in, and her Father had already left – and that seemed to calm the sudden bundles of nerves she had become. Her eyes were trained onto Molly's stomach, and all her previous thoughts about what sort of _horror _would befall her once Molly gave birth to the _new _child.

Memories of her childhood flashed through her mind...taunting her...belittling her very existence...and then, almost like a reflex, her hands were on her mother's stomach. Strands of dark red energy poured out of her palm, as the thought of a small baby torturing her, flashed through her mind. Never once did she pause to think that maybe, _just maybe_, the child would be different, that he would be like a _real _brother, and that he would look up to _her. _That he wouldn't become a copy of Ron.

But, by then, the hatred that had been shown to her, had already overridden her common sense. It was too late for Ginny. Because once someone turned to the Dark Arts, they never came back.

The red mist slowly merged itself into Molly's stomach. And if her Mother's eyes were open, Ginny would've seen the pain radiating in her orbs, as the red strings fell into her stomach, tearing apart everything in its way. It was only the special herbs in the Sleeping Draught that had prevented Ginny's...magic...from killing her. But the baby...was lost.

When Ginny finally realised exactly what was happened, she jumped back several feet. Seeing the weird position one of Molly's arms had twisted into, Ginny panicked, and did the first thing she could think of – she ran. Not sparing a look for her Mother, Ginny ran upstairs and locked herself into her room, her chest heaving. She curled up into a ball, and hugged her knees closer to her.

She didn't know that the repercussions of her actions would be far from mild. She didn't know that a mass depression would hit the Weasley house – especially Molly – at the news that her Mother was infertile, and that she would resort to _talking _herself out of guilt. (Thus earning her Ron's _honourable _and _extremely unique _– note the heavy sarcasm – nickname, "The-Ginny-Gossip.") She didn't know that she had unknowingly tapped into her affinity for Dark Arts, and that the saying – or curse, depending on your superstition – regarding Weasley female offspring was slowly coming true.

But, right now, what Ginny _did _know, was that she had done something very, _very _bad.

And from day, forward, Ginevra Molly Weasley would never be the same again, and neither would the members of her family.

* * *

It happened so quickly, that Luna didn't have time to react.

The day had started off like any other day, and Luna had just dragged herself into the kitchen, where she was greeted by a cheery Seiren Lovegood. Her mother was juggling a pair of eggs and a carton of orange juice (her mother had always preferred Muggle drinks to the old fashioned Wizarding pumpkin juice) and as she swept past Luna, the young blonde could've sworn she heard her humming a soft tune.

"Goooooood morning, my little Lu," laughed Seiren, a bright smile on her face. She whipped out a pan, and with an extravagant flourish, placed it on the stove.

Luna's dreary expression faded away the instant she heard her mother's voice. "Breakfast! What's for breakfast, Mummy?"

Seiren grinned, fondly, down at her daughter. Whilst Luna had definitely gained her father's enthusiasm for all things non-existent (Seiren couldn't find the heart to tell the two most important people in her life – with the exception of her faithful sword – that Nargles, or whatever fanciful creature they had thought up, just _weren't _real) besides, most of the time it was just _too cute_.

Yeah, her maternal instinct was kicking in. _Again._

"Well, Lu," Seiren produced a carton of pancake mix from behind her back, and she shook it in a jester-like manner. "Since its _sooo_ close to your birthday, I'm making your favourite...pancakes with a side of eggs, sunny-side up... !"

Luna's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yup!" She cocked her head, playfully, "...and it gives me the perfect chance to test out my new fire spell!"

Luna jumped up and down on the soles of her feet, excitedly. It was almost like, if it was even humanly possible to defy the laws of gravity, she would be bouncing off the walls. "WOW! What is it? What is it? Tell me, mom!"

Seiren inwardly smiled at her innocent expression, and you could almost see her go into lecture mode. (If Xenophilius was here, he would be closing his ears, crying waterfalls at the thought of _Seiren Lovegood _going into speech mode...) Wagging her finger in the air, she looked down at Luna, self-importantly. "Well, it is a _very _dangerous spell. Headmaster Dumbledore-"

"Wait," Luna interrupted, still rather hyper. Seiren's eye twitched. You'd think that, at the age of 9, she'd be just a _little _more mature. "You mean Mr Dumbly? The really weird old man? The one who teaches at Hogwarts?"

"Uh...yes," Seiren held her hands up, as if trying to ward of the contagious enthusiasm of her daughter. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, _as I was saying_, this spell is based off a simple charm that helps with cooking, but under the recommendation of Headmaster Dumbledore, I've modified it so that it could, theoretically, be potent enough to burn through a person's body, flesh, organs and all."

The blonde girl's eyes widened, as she realised how dangerous it really was. Almost like someone hat hit a button, her childishness dropped down to zero, and she looked at her mother with absolute seriousness. "Mom, if it's able to tear through someone's body structure, should even be attempting it? I mean, I don't want you to get hurt or anything!"

Seiren laughed, and gathered Luna up in her arms, the cooking material forgotten. She cooed softly, "Awww, Lunie-bear. Don't worry about me. Your mom knows what she's doing. Besides, no matter how much I change it, it _is_ just a Second Year spell. Even though I'm knocking it up a few notches, there is no way a spell that hasn't even gone through the first stage, will bring _me _down!"

"Besides," she winked, "'Mr Dumbly' knows what he's doing, Lu. It's not like he's leading me to my death, or something! (Here, she sighed) I just wish I could finish it. Oh, well."

Nodding in reluctant acceptance, Luna's lips twitched and the elder Lovegood giggled at her own joke, before she wiggled her manicured fingers in front of her daughters face. Speaking in a mock-mystical voice, Seiren whispered, "Now watch, Luna Lovegood. Watch _very_ carefully, for you are now about to witness a magical event that could make or break the universe as you know it. **Puteulanus Incendia.**" **(1)**

That was when everything went horribly wrong.

* * *

Months passed, and Luna Lovegood spent her days stuck in a bottomless pit of depression. She wouldn't say anything to anyone, and she would downright refuse to do _anything _other than sit and sulk. The Healers that would come by every once in a while would try, desperately, to get the poor child to simply _snap out of it_, but their efforts were in vain. It was not the least bit surprising that they always returned with a significant lack of results.

Luna, herself, was in turmoil. Her thoughts were terribly bleak, and she was painfully aware of the large, _gaping _hole in her chest that just refused to heal. She would often look at her Mother's picture, which was framed with a gold border, and was hung, right next to her bed, and she would feel tears prickle in the corner of her eyes, but she would always hold them back.

It wouldn't do her life any good, if she gave the press _another _fiasco to talk about.

* * *

_They just don't understand._

Luna clenched her fist as she watched her father converse, quietly, with a girl. Of course, this wasn't the source of her frustration. She couldn't care less who Xenophilius talked to. It was the fact that the...woman just _happened _to be a very scantily-dressed, blatantly flirting Rita Skeeter.

_It's obvious what she was here for. _Luna thought, bitterly. _What else could a Daily Prophet journalist want with Father? She just wants details. It's the only thing there is to cling onto, during such a boring festive season. She wants more details on...Mom's...death._

The blue-eyed girl sniffled. Details...it was the one thing that the blonde girl wished she could get rid of. She could still recall, with perfect and eerie clarity, what had happened when her mother had died.

* * *

_The light blue flames appeared in Seiren's palm, and she grinned, enthusiastically, before her eye twitched, slightly. The burning blue flames darkened, and suddenly Seiren's arm was convulsing. A look of fear was carved into her face, and before Luna – whose happy expression had died upon glancing up at her mother's stricken look – could so much as move, the fire had doubled in size, and had sunk in her hand. _

_Luna breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that it was over. That Mother would be fine. She was just about to reach out to question her mom about what had happened, when Seiren's arm (the one that had been holding the fire) started to glow a bright, cyan colour. The nine-year old watched in horror as her mother's hand shrivelled up, and her skin peeled off her skin, almost as if someone had burned them off. _

_Blood poured through her fingers, as the glow consumed the rest of her mother's body, at a rapid pace. Her bones fell to the floor, some of them black, whilst others shattered beyond recognition. Guts, and organs spilled to the floor, and the shell-shocked girl fought the urge to vomit. Before she knew it, the blonde woman had fallen to the floor, the flames eating away, and mangling her like a rabid dog feasting on its prey._

_And all that was left of the once great Madam Lovegood was the right half of her body, which remained as pristine and beautiful as ever. As Luna collapsed onto her mother's blood-soaked body, confused and utterly distraught, she caught sight of her mother's eyes, which stared back at her, lifelessly._

_Accusingly._

* * *

It was _her _fault that her mother was dead. If only she had moved, if only she had called for help, or stopped her...but no. She had stood there like a little girl, too scared to help the one woman who had cared for her more than life itself. She had _killed _her role model. Her caretaker. Her _Mother._ She had killed her, and it was tearing her up inside.

She blamed herself, but another part of her was pointing fingers at the man who had instigated the experimentation of the test. The person who had set her mother death up **(2) **and had _purposely _given her a life-risking spell...the person who had attempted – and succeeded – to kill her mother, The person who she know loathed beyond comprehension..._Albus Dumbledore._

Before Luna could brood any longer, her thoughts were broken by the high-pitched, obviously fake laughter of Skeeter, as she listened to Xelliphus talk about how 'ridiculous' Buddlewyx are. Luna rolled her eyes, and stormed off, unknown to the two people in the hallway. The blonde haired girl slammed her room door, and stared out the window, fuming.

She hated this.

Ever since Seiren's death, everything had gone downhill. Luna had woken up in St Mungo's, where she was informed, with a pitiful and sympathetic look that her mother had died. She _despised_ the way he had looked at her, the doctor. Brown eyes filled with false-understanding assessed her well-being, and the man had brought her aside and told her that everything would be alright. That he knew what she was going through. That she would get over it.

Then he left. And the Daily Prophet came in. They questioned her, relentlessly, about how she felt about 'Madam Lovegood's pass into the Kingdom of Heaven' and 'what she would do now that her maternal spirit was gone' and 'would her father consider marrying again.' After just finding out about her mother's demise, Luna's emotions were running high, and she had thrown a fit, which had resulted in several nurses telling her to stop making a racket, and 'kindly escorted the press outside.'

First, she screamed herself hoarse. Then she kicked and threw a vase at her father, who had tried to come and comfort her. Then she cried.

The next day, the Daily Prophet's headline read: "Over-emotional Miss Lovegood throws hospital tantrum over Mother's death."

The fact that her mother...her _Mommy_...was dead...it didn't seem real. Luna didn't _want _it to seem real. She wanted to curl up, and pretend that it was all a dream, and that when she woke up, she would be embraced by her mother, who would laugh off her dream as if it were a silly nightmare, and hug her, and say that she'd always be there...and...

The days and weeks after that were even worse than the first night. Several Ministry officials came in to see her, most of them to confirm the details of Mrs Lovegood's passing away. Many other 'family friends' came by to say that they 'truly were, very sorry for her.' They looked at her with sad eyes, but the mentally broken girl could tell that _they _didn't even mourn for her mother. _They _didn't feel the thudding ache and the uncontrollable tears, every time they would even glance at the once-Madam Lovegood's face.

Not to mention her father. After his daughter had thrown a vase at him and the full impact of Seiren's death hit him, Xenophilius Lovegood had been absurdly quiet. Suddenly, all the fun little jokes he and Luna used to play got twisted up to maximum. The once semi-popular Quibbler fell into pieces, and Mr Lovegood now lived in a permanent fairyland. He even forgot his own daughter existed, preferring to dance in the company of Pillywinkles.

Luna didn't know _how _she could've ever believed in that, much less how her father could prance around like a dim-witted three-year old and not even feel the slightest bit embarrassed. He was so dense, that it was practically written on his forehead. (Of course, Luna didn't know, that once the period of grieving had subsided slightly, she would try to adopt the same facade, if only to shoo off the Healers, permanently.)

Something changed that day. Perhaps it was the effect of an overdose of Skeeter-guffaws, but something snapped in her. And from day forth, Luna Lovegood swore that she'd follow in her mother's footsteps, and that would _never _be helpless again.

'The Lovegood Tragedy' wouldn't be repeated. Nobody would die because of her. Not again.

* * *

Hermione looked at the mug of hot chocolate in front of her, and watched as the brown liquid swirled under the influence of her spoon. She could hear her mother chatting with her new 'friend', in a posh, but intelligent-sounding voice. She rolled her eyes as she heard their laughter ringing through the kitchen.

Frankly, Hermione didn't know _where _her mum had met Madame Delacour (for such matters never ceased to disinterest her young mind) but for some reason, they seemed to be visiting the blonde Veela's house an awful lot, lately. Evenings with Madame Delacour were often filled with girly gossip, and snobbish talk about common townsfolk.

Every so often, she would abandon a discussion – which, if Celena was lucky, was more intellectual than this season's latest fashion – and veer over to Hermione, just so that she could lather said girl with praise-filled stories of her two daughters, Fleur – a 13 year old that Hermione didn't mind hanging out with...once she got past the quarter Veela's forsty exterior – and Gabrielle, who was 3.

Most of the time, Hermione would ignore her. So help her, but she didn't find the blabbering, French prattle of Apolline interesting at all. If she was fortunate, Fleur, the eldest daughter of Madame and Monsieur Delacour, would come to her rescue, claiming she wanted more 'Girl Time' before she had to return to the company of the 'open-mouthed, shamelessly staring girls' at Beauxbatons.

Of course, Hermione would then be dragged off to have sophisticated cafe, or would have to accompany her on her extravagant shopping trip (which were usually a companion to Fleur's miniature 'Etiquette' lessons, which she had demanded. In other words, "I refuse to be in ze company of you, 'Ermione, if you do not learn ze ways of ze refined.")

Whilst Hermione would much prefer curling up with a good book, or practicing spells with her mother's second wand (All _clever _wizards and witches should have a spare wand, so Celena would tell her) she had to admit that she was slowly getting used to the fashion craze of France. She'd even picked a dress that Fleur had approved of, the other day. (And, by Merlin, was this very hard thing to do.)

It was nice to be near someone who was in the same age group (even if they differed by two years) as you. Besides, it's called 'choosing the lesser of evils,' so Hermione would proclaim.

But today Monsieur Delacour – whom the brunette had only seen a few times – had gone off to drop Fleur to whatever transportation she took to get to Beauxbatons, so she was stuck with the torturous chit-chat of Apolline and Celena, the latter of which she would've never thought would degrade her own self into something like this.

Her mother was very sly, and was an excellent strategist. She resembled Hermione a lot, in both personality and looks. Celena loved books, and would be considered a tom-boy, in the eyes of many other witches, but she was extremely talented in the arts of magic. Not so much that she would be called a prodigy, or be listed as one of the most potent wand-users in history, but talented, nonetheless.

She was classy, but sweet. She was kind, but sadistic. She was clever, but dangerous. She was rough, but dainty. She was Hermione's role model, in a way. But, the one thing that the brunette girl absolutely _hated _about her mother, was her little mask, which was perfected by many days of acting and telling lies.

Hermione knew all about masks, and facades. Well, not _all _about them, but she had read a particularly interesting psychology book, which had given her enough clues to partially piece out the puzzle that was her mother.

Celena Riddle knew exactly what people wanted to hear, and she gave them it, only she twisted her words in such a way, that you were unknowingly _bending _to her will. Every word she fed you, you would buy – hook, line and sinker. She could make you sympathise, pity, hate, adore...if you were willing to pay attention to her, even for the tiniest bit, she would have you under her thumb.

This isn't what her daughter hated though. She actually _respected _and even admired her mother's tactics, no matter how sneaky. No, it was the fact that Hermione suspected that this was simply another facade, only this one was used to make her believe that Celena was a confident, capable mother.

But, she wasn't. Not really. Maybe she was, once. But Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that the Celena she showed at home was a mere reflection of her old self. Her mum wanted to be fun-loving and 'cool' but for some reason, she couldn't, and had to resort to _acting _like one (if only to preserve her pride, or maybe even to give Hermione a better childhood.)

Hermione suspected her Father.

Celena refused to even speak about Hermione's father, and the brunette had no idea who he was. She didn't even know why her mum was so defensive when it came to the subject. She would often hear her lying on her bed, crying. It was at those times that she was given a glimpse into the broken image that was her mother.

Hermione desperately wanted to know who her father was, and what he'd done to hurt her mother so much. Had he abandoned them? Was he dead?

Sighing, she ran a hand through her softly curled hair (something that Fleur had also _insisted _– rather forcefully – on, not that Hermione could complain) and drained the mug of steaming cocoa, before turning on her heel, ready to face the incessant chatter of Madame Delacour.

What did she have to lose really?

* * *

They had been walking through the alley when it happened.

"Apolline was rather chatty today, wouldn't you say, Hermy?" Celena said, coolly, obviously ignoring the sour look on Hermione's face upon the usage of her nickname. Hermy made her sound like some sort of..._hermit_. The elder brunette turned down into the dumpster, aiming to find a safe spot to Apparate, without having to worry about the curious eyes of the Muggles. "She would not stop talking about, as she said it: 'ow ze fashion of France is coming to its 'eight, zanks to ze wonderful 'annah Theaves."

Celena's false French-accent made Hermione quirk her lips upwards. Though she knew her mum was merely mocking Apolline Delacour, she could not help but compare the near-identical accents. She rolled her eyes, mentally, and thought to herself, drily, _and so the acting skills of Celena Riddle strike again. Wonderful._

"Oh, don't be such a spoil-sport, Hermy," Celena stuck her tongue out; though, deep inside, she fought the urge to bend down and demand that she tell her what was wrong. Hermione looked up at her mother, determined to snarl at the repetitive utilization of 'Hermy,' but to her slight surprise, Celena had frozen in shock, and her eyes were staring straight ahead, looking rather glassy.

At first, Hermione thought she'd been _Avada Kedavra_'d, and fought the urge to poke her. Reigning in her Inner Drama Queen, her eyes flickered to where her Mother was staring. To her shock – and confusion – she was met with the stumbling figures of two drunken Muggles. Her eyes narrowed. Mother could take these two down with a flick of her wrist, but yet, she was standing there, frozen as if she were in some sort of painting.

"Lookie here," slurred the one on the right, "We found us some hot chicks tonight, Robbie."

Robbie took a swig from his bottle, his words a gurgle, "Bags the one in the tight black dress. She looks like she would be of great service to me. You can have her once I'm done, Bob."

* * *

_Two men stumbled into the corner, matching glass bottles in their hands. They sauntered over to the 19-year-old girls, their eyes clouded with lust. They were both near-identical in appearance, and their shaggy, rough look made it blatantly clear that they weren't sober at all. They were speaking to each other, their words a gurgle of rude, indecipherable speech. Their eyes were trained on the girl in front of them, and it was evident that they were undressing her in their mind._

* * *

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw her mother's hand trembling, and tears blur in her eyes. Clenching her fist, she felt an inexplicable anger run through her body, and she stepped in front of her mother, a deadly look in her eyes. If the Muggles had been in their sober state, they would've fled at the horribly evil aura that surrounded the young girl which they had previously dismissed as insignificant.

"You will never _ever_ speak about Mother in such a _filthy_ manner again," Hermione growled, one hand reaching towards a small gold rod she had hidden in her belt pouch. Eyes still locked with the two, men, the rod re-appeared in her palm, and transformed into a long, silver sword with an emerald-encrusted tip.

A tear slipped down Celena's cheek.

* * *

_The girl growled at them, her voice a mixture of fear and fury. Her cap slid off her head, revealing a pale, porcelain-like face, and a heedful of honey curls. Dark ebony eyes glinted in the darkness, almost menacingly. She was daring the men to move forward. The rod in her hand clicked, and expanded, until it formed the unmistakable figure of a staff._

* * *

Slamming the sword into the ground, dark black shadows raced across the wall, capturing the two flabbergasted civilians in their sphere. Hermione fell back slightly and quickly gathered her energy. It took the constant feeding of her power to keep this spell going, and as she was still 10, she was nowhere near using it to its full potential.

Quickly running forward, she gripped the sword tightly, and cut both of their heads off with a clean, but bloody, sweep.

* * *

_A small, pink line appeared on the ground, between her rescuer and the attackers. The line squirmed, almost as if it were slime. A thin tendril squeezed out of the crack, and wrapped itself around the ankles of the two men. The teenage boy must have seen this, because a small smirk appeared on his pale face, and the orb in his hand tripled in size. He stepped backwards, and thrust the ball forward._

_It sped towards its target at full-speed, and hit them both with deadly accuracy, hurling the two men over the wall, and into the empty darkness. The boy looked at where the two men were last standing, and stood up, carefully._

* * *

Hermione looked down at the bloody remains, and she felt something strike in her heart. Eyeing her now red hand, she looked at the corpses, uncertainly. Killing someone for the first time was supposed to make you feel horribly guilty, for you had just taken someone's life, and devastated those who were close to him. But...but why did she feel so...so..._exhilarated_? Why was she feeling some twisted sort of vindictive pleasure? Why was she relishing the heat of being _at the top_?

She looked at her skirt, willing herself to feel sick. This feeling...it made her feel like a murderer. These were the feeling psychopathic serial killers get, when they strike their dagger into people's hearts. She..._she _was supposed to feel devastated, and disgusted in herself. She wasn't supposed to feel..._this_.

She turned back to her mother, who was looking at her with an odd sense of déjà vu. Tears streaming down her face, she looked down, her hands still shaking. "I...I haven't been a very good mother, have I?"

"No," Hermione said, firmly. "No, you haven't."

* * *

The cold shriek of the kettle interrupted the slightly wary silence that filled the Manor. Celena sighed to herself, and tucked a strand of chocolate brown hair behind her ear. Pouring the hot water into the tea cup, she let the tea bag soak, and turned to face a slightly impatient Hermione, who was leaning on the pantry door, her curly ringlets tied up in a messy bun.

"I said I'd try to fix it," Celena said, tiredly. "It was a rather cheesy, cliché thing to do at the time, but now, I honestly don't know where to start."

"You can't fix eleven years of fake mother-ship," Hermione replied, sullenly. "_But_, you could start by telling me everything. Like, who my father is, for one."

Celena's dark black eyes widened slightly, before she hesitate. Sighing, she put down the cup. "I should've known this day would come, but I kept telling myself that you wouldn't ask it for a while. You're not as naive as I'd like to believe you are, you know."

"I'd like to say I take after you, but I never really knew _you_-you, did I?" Hermione retorted, absentmindedly.

"No, I suppose not," Celena faltered. She wearily accepted the consequences of her actions, and with a heavy heart, she sat down on the chair near the sink. "Please forgive me, Hermy, but there are some things that you are just not ready to hear."

Hermione gritted her teeth and was about to ask why the hell not, her patience drawing up thin, when the elder brunette held up her hand, "I don't want my own poor mistakes to reflect upon your life. But...I will tell you everything I know about your father."

Her previous dissatisfaction disappeared almost immediately, and she leaned forward, listening carefully to her mother's words. "Your father's name was Tom Marvolo Riddlle, though that name was thrown away, to the public. Most people, now, know him as the feared Dark Lord –"

That was the day that everything in Hermione's life came crashing down. As truth was separated from lies, she was the receiver of a vivid tale of hatred and vengeance. Almost as if she were _in _the story, she could feel something unlock itself within her, and even though she'd never met her father before, she felt a kinship between them develop, just through the sheer passion of the story.

That was the day that sparked Hermione Cassandra Riddle's descent into darkness. That was the day that everything changed.

And this, my dear readers, is where the _real _story begins.

* * *

**(1) **Latin to English Translation: **Puteulanus Incendia - **_Blue Fire_

**(2) **Whether this is true or not, I want to remind you, that Luna is in an emotional state, so she is prone to exaggerating things and making assumptions. So, all this is just a little girl's ramblings, no matter how convincing or suspicious it may seem.

* * *

End of Prologue, Part 3

_Hey everyone! I'm dreadfully sorry for the long wait, but this chapter is pretty long, if that helps. It took me a while to get the guidelines for this straight, mostly because I kept changing bits and pieces. I'm pretty happy with the Ginny scene, but I think Luna's was a bit rushed and OOC, but I didn't know what to do with her. Hermione's snapshot...mmm, I think I over-did it a bit. Sorry if I did, but please bear with me._

_More about the rod will be explained in later chapters. But, just to let you know, it isn't some super-powered tool that will wreck havoc into the Wizarding World. Also, I put a little bit of Fleur into this story. This bit is also rather rushed, but this is a PROLOGUE. Trust me; there will be several paragraphs worth of description about how Hermione and Fleur became friends. (Originally I planned for it to be Gabrielle and Hermione, but then I realised that Gabby is three. So, that plan went down the drain.)_

_Probably around Arc 2-3, there will be more about Seiren Lovegood, the Prewett Family, and more about Celena Riddle shall be revealed. Mwahaahahaha. Cough. Sorry._

_Anyway, in response to the poll (which is STILL in consideration, by the way) I am sorry, but I have to straight away deny a few things. Harry Potter WILL be bashed. Not to a ridiculous extent, and several other characters will receive more negative attention than he, but understand that he IS one of the antagonists. I may, if the plot turns that way, make Hermione slightly sympathetic to Harry, but as of now, IF YOU LOVE HARRY, STOP READING, BECAUSE HE WILL BE BASHED!_

_Okay, now that's over and done with, the next bit of news: **I have gone back and revised Luna's entire scene in the last chapter. Go back and read it, if you want to!**_

_Before I sign off, I've added a little titbit at the bottom (think of it as a "sorry") and it's just a couple of ideas that are going through my mind. Read it if you're bored, because it'll really give you something to think about, AND it'll help you understand LD just that much better. _

_Anyway, review!_

_Love,  
Dark Lady x_

* * *

**Supplementary Information**

**Delving in My Research/Thoughts**

_Luna's mother died when she was nine, according to J.K. Rowling. She refers to this in HP5 – _

**:::**

"I mean, who…has anyone you known ever died?"  
"Yes," said Luna simply, "my mother. She was a quite extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine."

**:::**

_According to HP Lexicon, Mrs Lovegood died in the kitchen, and Luna watched her die. There is no specification (that I could find) of what the curse was. But to kill her...it would either have to be brutal and extremely quick (avoiding any chance of self-defence), or it would be affecting the brain, and clearly not something you can dispel with a simple flick._

_I used this set of events because, to me, they were openings that were left unclosed in the canon version. I've always wondered – "What curse did Luna's mother use that could _kill_ her?" and "Why was she practicing spells in the _kitchen_ anyway?" ..."How did Luna get over the ordeal so quickly? Did she have mental assistance? Did she get hurt in the backlash?"_

_In J.K. Rowling's books, Luna is nonchalant (or just, simply 'slightly sad') to most of the things concerning her mother – at least on the outside. But, can you imagine watching your mother _die_? I wanted to just portray how difficult it would be to cope ... A reclusive father, a one-way ticket to St Mungo's and the fact that her mother was dead. That...and the Ministry officials constantly filtering in for the vital details regarding Madam Lovegood's death..._

_Other things sparked my curiosity (especially while reading Draco [insert drooling] and his father making offhand comments about the Weasleys and their breeding habits.) So, "Why didn't the Weasleys have another child?" Some fan fiction authors say (or rather, theorise for the sake of theorising – and plotlines) that they were trying for a girl, and when they got Ginny, they stopped trying. Personally, I think that Molly loves children too much to just 'stop.' And money...she's too much of a mother to think of money over her kids._

_So Molly had to become infertile. But – the question I asked myself – how? I, personally, don't know much ways for a person to become incapable of giving birth. Actually, frankly, I have _no idea_. I mean, I don't check the Internet on 'Ways-To-Harm-Babies-And-Fatally-Damage-Whatever-Part-Of-Your-Body-That-Houses-The-Eggs.' I'm still a teenager – give me a break._

_I knew I wanted Ginny to be responsible for it – in a twisted way, I guess. My first choice was a knife. But then a number of problems came up. "How would Ginny get near her Mother with it?"..."If Molly was asleep, the pain of a knife slashing through her stomach would definitely wake her up. How would Ginny get rid of such a mess?" Not to mention, "Does a knife inflict enough damage, or would it kill her?" So once again, I hit rock bottom._

_So, eventually, I decided on the simplest solution, magic. It wasn't messy, it wasn't risky, and all Ginny needed to do was wish it on someone, with sufficient hate (intent is vital for 'not-so-accidental magic'...somewhat like wandless magic, except more like your survival instincts sparking up and letting your magic core let 'loose') and power to unknowingly – yet also, knowingly – cause irreparable damage._

_Hermione, well I wanted her to have a bond with her mother. Because her father is dead, I want to make it _affect _Celena (unlike in Era Obscurum), so that she's still a bit. It's just a smack of reality, I suppose. And, I want Hermione to be protective of someone so...you know. There isn't much else to say. In the end, I made her a bit more stronger than I'd originally planned, but y'know. Go with the flow._

_It wasn't as evil as I wanted it to be, but now that I look back, I think I've got a good balance of things in their... trio. They want to rule the world, and if all of them are as evil and psychotic as the Voldemort in HP7...that wouldn't work. Of course, they'll rule with fear, and they will still be 'dark', but if they rule the world, they've can't be so power crazy that they lose their political power/cunning/strength/wisdom/whatever-you-call-it. _

_In other words, to be followed (by the people) they need to be follow-able. If you get that?_

_Basically, if you wanted to rank them for evilness it would be: _

1. Hermione  
2. Ginny  
3. Luna

_I wanted to tell you more, but if I do, I'll spoil everything for you. :) Review!_


	4. Arc 1, Introductory Chapter

**Lady Darkness:  
**_**A Slytherin's Legacy**_

Recap: Ginny receives the news that her Mother is once again pregnant, and in her fear of having 'another Ron-Weasley,' an affinity to Dark Magic is shown, and she accidentally kills the baby. Molly barely survives with her life. Meanwhile, the Lovegood Family are thrown into a depression when Seiren Lovegood is killed. Media filter in to get the full details, and Luna is thrown into a void of guilt and hatred.

Hermione moves to France, where she and her Mother become close to the Delacour Family. On their way back from tea, they are ambushed by two Muggles, and Celena freezes up, remembering a very similar scene from her past. Hermione quickly wipes both of them out, marking her first kill. Celena later pulls her daughter aside, and tells her everything about her Father, promising to be a better motherly figure.

Thus concludes the 'Prologue Arc.'

Note: Wow! Who knew it would take me so long just to finish the Prologue! Sorry for the late, late update! Truly! But I've been horribly busy with school and I haven't touched the HP-Verse in _months_. So, this chapter will probably start of flowing from the Prologue, and somewhere in the middle, abruptly turn in the other direction.

Oh well, now that it's over, I've only got a quick (and by 'quick,' I mean QUICK. It's the shortest chapter I've written so far! Including Prologue, Part 1!) Introductory Chapter to cover, and then we're on to the _real _story! From now on, this will focus mostly on Hermione. Luna and Ginny will only appear in the Interludes, at least, for the first Arc. So, enjoy!

**ARC TIME FRAME: **Late 1991 – Early 1992

* * *

**Arc 1, Introductory Chapter  
**_**How Life Changes**_

Hermione lay on the white-quilted bed, savouring the last few moments she would have in the Manor that she had called home for the past eleven – almost twelve – years. It was strange how she felt, really. It was as if she was simply going through her daily routine, it was almost as if her brain wasn't registering the fact that she was, in fact, moving, despite the last of the cardboard boxes that lay beside her – no, _the_, it wasn't hers any more – bed.

She could still remember the night that her mother had told her everything about her past. It was an enlightening tale, and one that brought many emotions forth. At first, she was delighted, for she was finally about to unlock a secret that her mother had kept from her (not that she blamed her, because it _had _been 'for her own safety') but then upon the revelation of whom her father was, Hermione was floored. She was slightly fearful – after all, it wasn't every day that you find out your father was one of the most evil Dark Lords in centuries – but that feeling was quickly overcome by awe at his apparent power.

After all, if you had been told out that your father was one of the _greatest _wizards of his age (evilness be damned) how would you react? **(1) **And to find out that he despised Muggles as much as she did, to hear about everything he was made up to be, it was almost like a part of Hermione had been unveiled.

_We are so very alike._

What would it have been like if her Father was alive? Would Mother have been different to her? Would her Father have doted on her? Would her childhood have been livelier? Would she be a princess, helping her father rule over the world?

_I could've been happy._

Hermione clenched her fists and looked away, trying to keep her temple under control. It wouldn't do her any good if she broke something the day she was supposed to be moving. Despite her mother's constant lessons on control, ever since the day in the alley, her magic had been unnaturally volatile. Unpredictable. Wild.

_Bloodthirsty._

Things had changed since Celena's confession. Hermione, who had always been attached to the wonders of books, had spent most of her year practically living, and draining all the knowledge out of the Ravenclaw Library. The library itself was enormous, so much so that the brunette thought that there was _no _way she'd ever get tired of it. It was so horribly so large that, if it were a boutique, even someone as refined as Madame Delacour would've fainted in awe.

The thought of Madame Delacour, brought Hermione's attention to the blonde Veela that Hermione had slowly begun to consider her best – and perhaps, _only_ – friend. Fleur had been horribly shocked when Hermione had sadly informed her that they were moving to London. In a moment where she'd scrapped her dignified exterior, she'd looked at her with wide eyes and asked her _why _she was going. She'd get her invitation to Beauxbatons this year, anyway, and that Fleur didn't want her first _real_ friend – one that didn't hang out with her for her looks only – to leave.

Hermione had felt a twinge of guilt, and had reluctantly told her that her mother and she had business to do. Very private stuff, to do with her father. Fleur had gotten the hint. She'd backed off – from past experience, parents were a very touché subject for the brown-eyed girl – but as they'd said their last goodbyes, even she could see the unhappy look in the part-Veela's eyes. The cold glare she'd given all the passerby's that dared look at her. **(2)**

_The façade._

She shook her head. She couldn't think of things like that. She wasn't even remotely sure if she'd ever return to France again. She couldn't burden Fleur with the thoughts of whether she was safe or not.

_Nobody could interfere._

The brunette slowly rolled over her bed, quietly picking up her bags and casting one last look towards her room.

_Goodbye, France._

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do it?"

She caught her mother's eye, and peered at her inquisitively, her honey brown curls framing her porcelain skin. Hermione watched her, carefully, analysing her mother's worried and hesitant expression. She looked away, her fingers curling around knees. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

_Why the doubt, _Mother_?_

"Hermione," Celena sighed, biting her lip. "I'm being serious. This…this 'plan' of yours…are you positive you want to go through with it? It's not too late to change your mind. I mean, we could always stay here, in France. You could go to Beauxbatons with Fleur, and you'd be perfectly happy-"

_You act like you care. You're just scared._

From where she was idly gazing at the car window, Hermione jerked her head upwards, and fixed her mother with a sharp look. "No. I've made my decision already."

_Scared of your own past._

"I just don't understand why, you're so _adamant _on-"

_I'm not like you._

"I swore I'd understand my father better." Hermione cut her off, her voice distant, but leaving no room for protest. It was firm, almost angry, and it made her mother recoil in shock. "That I'd finish his legacy. That I'd make him proud of me. I'm not backing out of my vow."

_Not now_.

* * *

Somewhere else, a boy woke up, clutching his forehead. Gritting his teeth in pain, he fumbled to find his glasses. A soft, fluorescent light filtered through the cracks of the door, and he lay back, forcing himself to think of other, more pressing matters.

But, for some reason, Harry James Potter couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that crawled across his skin.

_Something was coming._

* * *

**(1) **Remember, Hermione has an issue with Muggles, so she doesn't care whether Voldemort is a psychopath hell-bent on vengeance, or whatever.

**(2) **I could make a whole other scene to describe why Fleur becomes so cold to everyone outside of those she knows, but I won't. Hopefully, you'll know by subtle style well enough to recognise that everything I put in here almost always means something. (Intentionally, or not.)

* * *

End of Arc 1, Introductory Chapter

_Here we go: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I have neglected this story an awful lot, and I apologise a thousand times! I don't have any more excuse that can amend the disappointment that was caused because of my lack-of-update, and even worse, this chapter is hardly what you call 'long.' I had written a paragraph or two a few months earlier, as well as the chapter notes, but I never actually had enough drive to continue typing until now!_

_Once again: Sorry! Anyway, I know some of you will be surprised that there's even an Introductory Chapter, but I felt it was necessary (so I don't overload Chapter 1.) Anyway, the next chapter is called 'The Beginning of an Act' and that may take some time for me to put up, because I'm still working out the details of it. _

_The whole "Hogwarts Letter" frustrates me to pieces. Some stories say that the Letters write themselves, and show a person's real name, no matter what. But then, what if they've changed it, legally? So, I'm really annoyed with the whole system (since, as far as I can recall, it mentions nothing about the Letter in the actual books) and I haven't a clue what to do. And the outcome affects "The Plan" a lot (which is why it isn't explained here.)_

_**So, if anybody knows anything about the Hogwarts Letter System (that is FACT, not made up. Fact-based theories, I don't mind either) I would really appreciate it! **__Otherwise, I'll just have to scrap up something, and I don't want to have to go back and change it if I find out that someone knows the real workings of it._

_This Arc will basically follow Canon, with a lot of behind-the-scenes actions. I've always liked the sort of stories that focus on the actual events, and weave their plotlines into it, to make it seem like it was always there, and it was the reason that people acted this way, and so forth. That's vaguely what I'm aiming for. BUT, I will make Hermione different. I mean, it'd be boring if everything was the same, wouldn't it? :)_

_Anyway, no more babbling! Please review! It was reviews that got me back on track to writing this story, and its reviews that'll help it continue!_

_Cheers,  
Dark Lady_


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